


I Can't Believe I Let You Talk Me Into This

by Lily_Padd_23



Category: The West Wing
Genre: College, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Meet-Cute, Origin Story, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 15:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17769371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Padd_23/pseuds/Lily_Padd_23
Summary: Sometimes double dates don't go exactly to plan.And sometimes that's a very good thing.





	I Can't Believe I Let You Talk Me Into This

_Spring, 1961_

 

           “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, Millie,” Abbey sighed, fiddling a fat pearl stud onto her right ear.

           “You gonna be this grumpy at dinner?” Millie teased with a pop of her red lipstick, “Because he’s a sweet guy, and you’re not allowed to scare him off.”

           “If this is all it takes to scare him off, I’m surprised he’s even brave enough to venture outside grounds of Notre Dame.” Abbey gestured up and down her frame, highlighting her short stature.

           “Abbey, you are really going to like him,” Millie said, “He his very handsome, and he’s very quiet, so you’ll be able to talk as much as you want.”

           “Very funny,” she rolled her eyes and reached for the other earring, and then examined her reflection in Mille’s vanity. “You think the pearls are too much?”

           “I think the pearls are just enough,” Millie said, not looking in Abbey’s direction as she wriggled into a pair of stockings.

           “Millicent Eleanor Griffith!” Abbey cried, “You didn’t even look!”

           “But I know what my pearl earrings look like, and I know what you look like,” Mille said.

Abbey looked back into the mirror, and sighed at her reflection, trying to pin down a stray auburn curl, “You know, I could be doing actual work. Important work. Interesting work.”

           “Don’t kid yourself, Abbey, you never put off homework until Friday night,” Millie chuckled, slipping on her black pumps, “Besides you owe me one.”

           “Oh, and here I was thinking that a double date with you and your quarterback so I could meet his handsome friend was _you_ doing _me_ a favor,” Abbey stood up, resigned to the fact the curl would not be tamed, “How foolish of me.”

           “First of all,” Millie retorted shrugging into a pale pink cardigan, “It’s not as though it were some secret, seeing as I did in fact _tell you_ that my main motivation for inviting you is that my quarterback is becoming increasingly intimidated by me, and I want to remind him that I am not actually the loudest most abrasive woman in all of Indiana.”

           “I’m still not sure how I feel about your using my strong personality against the cause of women’s lib,” Abbey smirked, grabbing her own green cardigan off the back of the chair as they headed out.

           “And _secondly,”_ Millie said pointedly ignoring Abbey’s comment, “I actually do think you’ll like this guy. So it’s a win-win.”

Abbey let out a melodramatic sigh as they strolled down the halls of Millie’s dorm, her cardigan swung over the shoulder of her buttercup yellow dress in annoyance, “All I’m saying is that if this guy turns out to be a pompous jackass, _you’ll_ owe _me.”_

~*~

           “I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Jed said, bending down to see his reflection in the passenger window of Bobby’s car so he could adjust his tie. The pale blue one with the navy stripes.

           “Jed, you are the only guy I have ever met who’d shirk the opportunity to talk to a pretty girl,” Bobby unlocked the Studebaker, and they climbed in.

           “I don’t like how it looks to study to become a Priest by day and go cavorting with St. Mary’s girls by night,” Jed said as the engine revved, “It doesn’t seem a little hypocritical?”

           “I know that you have the superiority complex and righteous indignation down pat, but you’re not a Priest yet,” Bobby took one last look in the rearview to run a hand through his blonde hair, “Besides, it’s not like you have to marry her.”

           “I don’t know, Bobby, it just feels wrong,” Jed sighed, propping his head to look out the window at the orange sunset as they drove towards the restaurant. A silence fell and Bobby turned on the radio and began drumming his hands on the wheel to the beat of the Little Richard song. When the track ended, Jed asked, “What if she expects more?”

           “I mean, you know what they say about St. Mary’s girls,” Bobby gave Jed a sleazy grin, “So repressed they’ll jump at the first chance to…”

           “You’re repulsive,” Jed interrupted, crinkling his nose, “I was talking about marriage. Why would a girl go out with a guy if that wasn’t at least on the back of her mind?”

           “Look, you are giving this _far_ too much thought, buddy,” Bobby said, “It’s just dinner! My girlfriend won’t shut up about how she wants to be a real, grown-up couple, and how real, grown-up couples spend time with other real, grown-up couples, but we don’t know any real, grown-up couples, so this is the best I can do. So you just have to sit there, try not to make me look like an idiot, and be moderately polite to her friend. It’s not as though I’m playing Yenta or anything.”

           “A Catholic Yenta?” Jed raised an eyebrow, “That’s new.”

Bobby cracked up and punched Jed’s arm, making him laugh, too. Once they collected themselves, Jed paused and inquired, “What do you even talk about with girls?”

This prompted another laugh from Bobby who said, “You really are a mama’s boy.”

           “Bobby!” Jed groaned, “I only had brothers. I went to all-boy’s prep schools my entire adolescence, and now I’m at a men’s college. When do you suppose in my nineteen years that I ever had the opportunity to talk to girls?”

           “Judging by how begrudgingly you are approaching tonight’s endeavor, I think this is less a question of weather you had the _opportunity_ to talk to girls and more a question of weather you had the _inclination_ to talk to girls.”

           “Is ‘both’ an acceptable answer?” Jed grunted his response, “Called to the Priesthood and all?” Bobby laughed at his piety, and Jed went on, “Just because you’re a pig doesn’t mean I have to be.”

           “Shut up and tell me when we get to Sycamore Street.”

Jed groaned again and slumped into his seat, eyes peeled for the street sign in question, trying to think of something witty to say, but getting distracted by the vibrancy of the sunset instead.

~*~

Abbey and Millie at the little round table, only occasionally sneaking coy looks towards the door. Millie snapped a bread stick in halves until each piece was too small to break anymore. Abbey just studied the menu trying to find the most expensive item in case the guy did in fact turn out to be a jerk. She didn’t have one bit of confidence in Millie’s taste in men. Not one bit. But she had been wanting to try this restaurant since it opened. And she did in fact owe Millie for getting her out of a pinch at a DAR reception last semester when somebody’s drunk husband wouldn’t stop flirting with her and Millie had driven all the way across town to pick her up the night before an exam. But she wasn’t exactly sure that enduring Millie’s quarterback and whatever friend he was bringing along made them even. Particularly considering that Millie’s endorsement of a man was usually a pretty good indicator that he was an asshole. She would never understand how someone _that_ brilliant could fall for such idiots. Abbey was too busy to fall for anybody.

           “Are they quite late or are we quite early?” Abbey finally asked, realizing that she was already getting restless.

           “We’re quite early,” Millie said glancing at her watch. “They should be here in five.”

~*~

It took Bobby and Jed five minutes to scrounge up enough pennies from between the seats to fill the parking meter, but once they were certain they had enough time entered, they headed towards the restaurant. It was in the nicer part of town, across the street from another place that had just opened, surrounded by streets of cute little shops and flowering trees. There was an ice cream parlor that looked like something left over from the 1920s and a bowling alley where they could charm the attendant into giving them free Cokes. They didn’t spend much time here, but whenever he found his way back to this part of town, Jed wished he made the drive more often because it reminded him vaguely of New England and made him feel like he was home. Only, the feeling of dread was crowding out the feeling of nostalgia as the restaurant came into view.

           “Come to think of it,” Jed said as they approached the restaurant, “You probably don’t need me here at all. I can just wait for you at the alley, practice my bowling. It would be no trouble.”

Bobby grabbed Jed’s arm, rolling his eyes at the last attempt to escape, and dragged him into the restaurant by his navy blue suit jacket.

~*~

The door swung open, and Millie sprang up, “There they are!” she squealed, hopping over to greet them.

Abbey fought back the curiosity that was coaxing her to look up and examine them, but she had made up her mind that the last impression she wanted to give was one of eagerness, so she kept her eyes stubbornly fixed on the menu as the three of them made their way back over to the table.

~*~

They made their way in, and Jed realized that he could not stop looking at his feet. Mrs. Landingham would have given him shit about that. So much for being moderately polite.

~*~

           “You know Abbey,” Millie said. On hearing her name, Abbey looked up, flashing her best fake smile at the idiot with his arm around Millie who thought it would be appropriate to wear his letterman jacket to a high-end Italian bistro.

           “Pleasure to see you again,” she lied through gritted teeth.

           “And this is Peter!”

~*~

           “Jed, this is Clara,” Bobby introduced as they met the girls in the entryway.

Jed looked up and gave a forced smile, “Hi.”

~*~

           “Abbey, Peter. Peter, Abbey!” Mille waved her hands back and forth between them with something of a giggle.

           “It’s good to finally meet you, Abbey,” Peter said, “Jim’s told me so much about you.”

           “Well, don’t trust a word of it,” Abbey’s sarcasm came as an impulse at this point. There wasn’t much she could do to stop it.

~*~

           “I’ve heard all about you from Bobby,” Clara smiled shyly, “I feel as though I already know you.”

           “Well, that saves me the trouble of having to make a good first impression,” Jed said. Clara just blinked, visibly failing to register the joke. Jed opened his mouth to say something else before he realized he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Bobby rescued him by pulling him over to the counter so they could order, and Clara trotted behind them.

~*~

After they ordered their drinks, Jim dominated the conversation, as usual, giving play-by-plays of football practice. All the while, Millie made those stupid puppy eyes at him, Abbey did her best impression of remotely interested, and Peter folded and unfolded his napkin in his lap. When a lull finally came, Peter looked up at Abbey and offered, “So Abbey, Jim tells me you’re studying biology?”

           “Yes, I am,” Abbey said with more enthusiasm than she had intended to show that night, only because she was relieved to not have to listen to Jim talk anymore.

           “Huh,” was all Peter said in response. Abbey felt her eyebrows rise suspiciously. There was something glib in his tone that was hard to miss, even in just a single syllable.

           “Peter is studying physics,” Millie said energetically, trying to spark a conversation for him and Abbey. Then she turned to Jim and playfully said, “You’re the black sheep this time; you’re the only one not studying science.”

           “I’ll leave the egghead stuff to the eggheads,” Jim teased back.

           “What area of physics are you studying, Peter?” Abbey asked, ignoring Jim’s stupidity.

           “Theoretical physics,” Peter responded, “My advisor says that I have a lot of promise in the field. He wants me to be his research assistant next semester.”

           “And what will you be researching?” Abbey inquired.

           “Oh,” Bobby scoffed, “It’s pretty complicated. Probably go right over your head.”

Abbey gave a teeth-gritted laugh and white-knuckled her fork. She felt Millie’s hand privately fly to her thigh to hold her back from throwing the fork into his face.

           “Anyway, I think we’ve got a pretty good shot at going all the way this year,” Bobby ungracefully turned the subject back to himself, “We’ve got a lot of good freshman talent.”

           “That’s super, sweetie!” Millie quipped.

The waiter came by to drop off their drinks, and Abbey violently squeezed her lemon into her water. They placed their orders and settled back into the rhythm of Jim giving a monologue about football, Millie praising him, and Abbey pretending she was anywhere else. After Jim wrapped up a story that Abbey had heard a thousand times about the team’s last-minute touchdown that winter, Peter took a sip of his coffee and asked, “So what do you two ladies need biology degrees for?”

Abbey felt her grip tighten even harder around her fork as Millie gave a bemused cock of her head and said, “They don’t let you into medical school without one.”

           “Medical school?” Peter asked, “I didn’t know nurses had to go to medical school.”

           “Surgeons do,” Abbey bit. Peter let out a condescending snort and Abbey said, “You’ve never heard of a female surgeon?”

Not so thick that he couldn’t sense the tension, Jim cleared his throat and announced, “Anyway, coach says that if I keep doing my exercises, that spot where I strained my calf muscle will be in shape for next season.”

           “Have you been alternating applications of heat and ice to the affected area?” Abbey asked.

           “Nah, just ice baths.”

           “Oh no,” Millie shook her head at Jim, “I told you that you have to...”

           “You should really alternate between heat and ice,” Abbey said.

           “Why?” Peter sneered.

           “It has to do with promoting blood flow to the injury sight,” Abbey shot back, “Probably go right over your head.”

           “Abbey!” Millie stood up abruptly, “I have to go to the powder room. Won’t you come with me?” She then proceeded to practically push Abbey out of her chair and escort her to the bathroom.

~*~

As they ordered at the counter, Jed looked around the restaurant, realizing that Bobby had been correct to say he was overdressed. So that made him feel uneasy. Once they paid and moved to the table, right away, Bobby and his girlfriend fell into the booth and began giggling into each other’s ears as if they were the only people in the world. So that also made him feel uneasy. Clara watched him expectantly, taking small nibbles of her grilled cheese and dainty sips of her strawberry milkshake. He kept trying to initiate conversation, but every time he’d ask her something, she’d answer monosyllabically and just stare at him with owl eyes.

           “So, how do you like St. Mary’s?”

           “Well.”

           “What are you studying?”

           “Music.”

           “What kind of music?”

           “Piano.”

           “Who’s your favorite composer?”

           “Mozart.”

           “I love Mozart. Did you know that he wrote five movements for Eine Kleine Nachmusik, but one of them was lost, which is why it is played with just four?”

           “Yes.”

           “Yeah, I figured you would,” he sighed, and she gave him a small smile. He took a bite of his burger. Even the clamor of the noisy diner was unable to drown out the painfully awkward silence between him and Clara. He tried to eat his burger as slowly as he could prolong having something else to do besides talk.

Tragically, it would seem that God— who he selectively accused of being in charge of engineering uncomfortable situations— was against him that evening, having given him what he could only fathom was the world’s smallest burger because his plate was clean before anyone else’s. With absolutely nothing left to say to Clara, he reached for his pocket in desperation. A wash of relief overcame him when he found there his pack of cigarettes and matches. He silently thanked Christ and his past self for not following through with his promise to quit. Retrieving the pack, he announced, “Well, you know what they say about old habits dying hard, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go take a smoke.” The other three barely acknowledged him as he dashed out the door, feeling eternally grateful that his older brother had convinced him to sneak a puff in their old tree house when he was fifteen. If for no other reason than to give him an excuse for a break from what _had_ to be worst double date in the history of double dates.

~*~

Once the bathroom door shut behind them, Millie grabbed Abbey’s arm and muttered with wide eyes, “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.”

           “Holy shit, Millie,” Abbey’s hands flew to her brow, “I mean Holy _shit.”_

           “Abbey, I am so sorry,” Millie buried her face in Abbey’s shoulder, “I had no idea he was so repugnant.”

           “You said he was _sweet!”_ Abbey turned facing the mirror to balance herself against the sink.

           “He never said anything like that when I met him last week!” Millie held up her hands defensively, “Ever!”

           “What _did_ he say when you met him last week?” Abbey asked, catching Millie’s eyes in their reflection.

Millie paused before collapsing against Abbey in dramatized anguish, “Nothing! He didn’t say anything!” At this, Abbey let out another one of her groans, and Millie said, “That’s why I thought he was perfect for you!”

Abbey paced away from the mirror and then back, looking at Millie intently and said, “I’m making a break for it.”

           “What?!”

           “I am going to slip out, and— and, and get a taxi cab back to campus,” she nodded vigorously, “Cover for me! You have to cover for me.”

           “Abbey, no!” Millie moaned, “You can’t leave me to face that buffoon by myself.”

           “It’s either leaving you alone or making you an accessory to murder,” Abbey threatened, “Because I _will_ kill him.”

           “Fine, fine, fine!”

           “Thank you!” Abbey squeezed Millie’s arm, “Thank you, thank you.”

           “But what about dinner?” Millie said, “What are you going to eat?”

           “I don’t know!” Abbey shook her head, her only priority being getting the hell out of there, “I don’t know, I’ll get some French fries at the place across the street. I don’t have much of an appetite after…” she gestured in the direction they’d came and made a face to mimic Peter’s.

           “Okay, go, go, go, go,” Millie said, “I’ll tell them you developed a sudden case of influenza.”

           “It’s not flu season!” Abbey commented in a panic.

           “They won’t know that!” Millie shoved her out the door, “Just go!”

~*~

The sun had already set, so Jed blew puffs of smoke into the darkness. For a split second, he considered hailing a cab, but he decided that, as poorly as this was going, nothing could justify his being _that_ rude. So instead, he tried to drag out his cigarette as long as he could.

Once that one was snuffed beneath his shoe, he reasoned that nobody could fault him for having another. He leaned against the window on the left side of the door and closed his eyes, savoring small, short breaths so that he could make the solitude last. Thinking of all the reading he still had left to do when he got back to campus, he slipped his cigarette up to the tips of his fingers in order to rub his eyes with the heels of his palms. That’s when he heard, “Those things’ll kill you, you know.”

Pulling his hands away and blinking, he looked around to see a wavy-haired girl who had to be about his age in a yellow dress and a green sweater with her eyebrows raised at him. She held one of those little red and white cardboard trays of French fries and was leaning against the window on the opposite side of the door. He had been too lost in thought to notice her come in and out of the restaurant, but he couldn’t imagine how it was physically possible to have failed to see someone so beautiful. Taking her in, he looked back and forth between her snarky expression and the tray in her hands for a second before managing to say, “So will those,” with a nod towards her French fries.

The girl pursed her lips, popped one of the fries in her mouth defiantly and said, “Not as quickly.”

           “Well, didn’t a famous philosopher once write on the merits of living a short life of pleasure versus a long life of deprivation?” Jed took a drag as she watched him.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she said, “It sounds like you just made that up.”

He paused long enough to give a too-cool shrug before saying, “I might have.” He then became starkly aware that he was _flirting._ Or at least trying to.

           “I don’t know how much pleasure you’ll have time for once the tobacco destroys your alveoli and leaves you with a range of symptoms like chest pain, incessant coughing, respiratory diseases, increased likelihood of cardiovascular failure, and a significantly higher chance of developing cancer in every single one of your organs,” she rambled, barely stopping to take a breath.

Jed blinked, his cigarette fizzling in his fingers. He didn’t know what it said about him that he was more mesmerized by her now than he had been a few seconds ago when she was just a cute girl eating fries. He lifted up his hands in mock surrender, “Okay, Doc.”

           “Not yet,” she said quickly, “But soon.”

           “And what will the indebted masses of patients call you once that eventuality occurs?” he wasn’t sure if that sounded smooth or stupid. Both, judging by the half-smile half-smirk she gave him.

           “Dr. Barrington,” she replied, adjusting her little tray so that she could extend her right hand to him, “Dr. Abigail Barrington.” He straightened up from where he had been leaning and took a step towards her, moving his cigarette to his left hand so he could accept the handshake, and she added, “But right now, the masses just call me Abbey.”

           “It’s nice to meet you, future Dr. Barrington,” he nodded with a flourish.

           “And you, too,” she mirrored his cheeky formality and then moved her hand away all too soon for his liking, “And what do the masses call you, good sir?” she chuckled, eating another French fry.

           “Jed,” he replied, “I’m Jed Bartlet.”

~*~

So, it turns out Abbey _wasn’t_ too busy to fall for anybody.

**Author's Note:**

> These sweethearts don't belong to me, but I sure do love 'em. 
> 
> Ahhhhh I've been writing a lot in this fandom lately, but this my first time writing Jed and Abbey, and I have never felt more responsibility to do right by characters than with these two, so I hope you find them adorable and lovely because that's what they deserve.
> 
> Comments and kudos make me unreasonably happy! <3


End file.
